The Sufferer's Gift
by animedrum1
Summary: A romantic tale of what might have been between The Signless and The Psiioniic. This portrayal shall be told through various character points of views and shall be as equally smutty as it is fluffy, packed with deep, philosophical ramblings, heated emotion, burning desires, sweet words, and lustful journeys with mind blowing detail. (Updates may be infrequent due to long chapters)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

POV: Ψiioniic

"Fuck.." I muttered under my breath. That was a lot of people, especially for a secret cult organization meant to defend the lowbloods, under the rule of just one singularity. I looked up past the dark swaying ocean of Followers to see _him, _standing atop a low hill. His voice echoed through the crowd despite their numbers, their debates, and various chatter. His voice was the sound of fresh morning dew, of rejuvenation and of the restoration of long forgotten ideals. He inspired in me the motivation that I never thought I could possibly ever have, and instilled in me a desire to break free of who I was and of the purpose that I predeterminedly served.

Never in my life had I been so moved by another's words before. Never had I met another who could affect me in so many ways, and so deeply and thoroughly, through such simple and little action. Was this trickery? Had it been a mind trick? I wasn't sensing any psychic phenomena radiating from him...so no, that couldn't be the answer. I later learned that this is just how Signless was. This was his gift.

At the end of his speech, most of the crowd burst into applause and erupted into cheers of joy and vigor. But I remained silent, shocked by what I had just witnessed. The feelings flowing through me were strange ones that I did not recognize, feelings that I still cannot describe, and they were strong enough to bind me to the ground, freezing me in place. I stayed standing motionlessly until the area had become mostly bare, only a few remaining Followers conversing in groups excitedly about what they had just seen, or remaining to argue confusedly afterwards.

I had remained unmoving throughout the whole gathering, as if my feet had been glued to the ground. My ear stayed trained on his voice the entire time, my mind taking in nothing other than his words. And before I knew it, the area had cleared of almost everyone, his speech having ended already. I had been thinking too hard about what he had said to notice my surroundings. It was perhaps the first time I had become so absorbed in thought as to lose track of both time and space.

I looked around and saw only a few small groups of trolls who had remained afterwards to continue their own personal debates with each other. Then I noticed that one of the groups consisted of The Great Speaker himself, and I started walking in their direction to get a closer look as to what they could possibly be doing.

He seemed to be shaking the hands of a few of them, while answering the questions of others, and laughing a bit at humorous things they must have said. Sadly, I could not hear his laughter from where I was standing, but could only see his laughing figure.

I was curious as to what his laughter must have sounded like, and I wondered what it was that could have possibly made the serious guy laugh, so I started to head closer in their direction, but then realized that if I was going to eavesdrop, I was going to have to do it right.

So I stood behind a tall tree and watched silently from behind it as one of them tugged playfully at his cape, threatening to pull the hood down, smirking.

The hooded troll laughed nervously and replied timidly, inching away a bit to escape the grasp of the intrusive troll. The taunting troll laughed loudly at the other's soft reply, giving him a light, playful punch to the shoulder.

"Boy, you are just too funny!" he exclaimed, turning to look at the rest of the group who had joined in on the joking to laugh and giggle along with him.

The "boy", who from up close, really did seem younger than the rest of the group, turned away a bit, his face hidden behind his dark hood as he chuckled nervously.

I could barely hear the soft sound of his chuckle, and I wanted desperately for this annoying group of trolls to leave already. Not only because I wanted him to myself, but because I could tell that they were making him feel uncomfortable and uneasy.

To my relief, the provocative group started to leave soon afterwards, and most of the other groups had cleared the area as well. I silently watched the young hooded troll start to gather his belongings, preparing to leave like the others, and realized a bit late that if I wanted a chance to talk to him, I would have to take this one.

The problem was that I had no idea what to say to him. I didn't even know his name, for crying out loud! But I knew that now was the time to make my move, before he was to leave.

So I came out from behind the tree and walked up to him slowly, taking in his appearance. He was wearing all black; a tight one piece body suit topped with a hooded black cape that covered most of his tall, slim figure. He indeed appeared physically younger than I, perhaps by a sweep or so. I took in the simplicity and anonymity of what he wore, taking note of the small bright red details here and there contrasting the overall blackness of his appearance, noticing how the bottom end of his cape was torn, ripped up and tattered-looking, as if it had gone through many dangerous ordeals. Uniquely rounded short horns stuck out from his hood on either side of the top of his head, and I took note of those as well, having never seen anything quite like them before.

It wasn't long before he noticed I was eyeing him. (Okay, staring. Yeah, I was probably creeping him out.) Nope, it didn't take him long at all.

"My friend, is there something with which I can assist you?" he asked in a soft, stable voice that sounded slightly more youthful than mine, turning to face me as he finished gathering his belongings.

There was a subtle smile on his face, and a hint of genuine concern in his tone, but it was difficult to tell what he was thinking or feeling due to the shadow from his hood and long, shaggy bangs covering his eyes, revealing only the lower half of his face. He was indeed a mysterious looking figure.

"Uh…yes, I…I'd like to know your name...sir…" I stuttered, my thoughts having been stopped short by the surprisingly soft sound of his voice from up close.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid…_ I thought to myself, regretting not thinking of what to say to him beforehand, having blurted out the first thought on my mind simply to break the awkward silence between him and I.

"I am most commonly referred to as The Signless," he said, smiling kindly. "May I ask for your name, young mister?"

I hadn't expected such attention and warmth from a busy, well known guy like Signless, and I managed to say, "Psionic…" as I took in his kind, friendly demeanor.

He smiled more widely and offered a hand for me to shake, and I just looked at it for a moment, stunned, not having expected such treatment, before taking it eagerly and shaking.

He had a gentle, but confident grip, warmth radiating from the touch of his skin. I had never felt such intense heat from another's hand before.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Psionic," he said as we shook hands. He then released my hand and I mumbled "..You too.." as I looked down at my hand, as if something holy had just come into contact with it. Welp, that was apparently my new favorite hand from now on.

"I am assuming that this is your first time at one of my gatherings…?"

"Yes," I replied as I returned my gaze to his shrouded face, letting my hand fall back to my side again, wondering how he knew this.

"I see, then that must be why I don't recognize you. In that case, I thank you for your time and open mind, it has meant a great deal to me, Psionic."

My face became a bit hot from the direct mentioning of my name, and it felt out of place to hear HIM thank ME for time and an open mind, rather than the other way around.

"No, thank _you._ Your words have inspired in me many new feelings which I cannot convey to you by any means of communication or definition."

"Oh really, now? I believe that drinking can be of some help to you, if so. I've found that it easily allows for effortless expression of thoughts and feelings in the form of words and actions…" He smirked with an unreadable half-grin. Damn, how I wanted to know what he was thinking then.

I gave him a slightly confused look by raising a brow, and then his grin widened a bit as he chuckled softly. The sound of that beautiful little laugh made me practically melt inside, but I had no time to even think as he continued his proposal.

"What I'm meaning to say is that, I was just planning on heading down to the old underground bar to get some drinks and chill down a bit, but uh…I'd love to have you with me as company, Psionic. It does tend to get a bit lonely and quiet down there around these hours."

And so I, the humble Psionic of low class, was offered a gracious outing to a bar. To be treated to some drinks by The Signless, the great Speaker himself. How could I possibly refuse such an offer? I had no idea what his blood color was at the time, but I was almost certain that it was of higher value than my own relatively low hue. And thus I felt like I was just one, _lucky, **bastard.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

POV: Signless

"Fuck.." I look down at my own feet, stopping dead in my tracks. I am halfway between my recuperacoon and desk. It is the second time this day that I have tripped over my own cloak. And in my own respite block, of all places. As if I don't know it in my sleep by now, which I don't get much of to begin with.

My head is really up in the cosmos today. I just can't get yesterday out of my think pan. There was just something so peculiarly mysterious, so intriguingly mystifying, about _him._ And it won't leave me alone. No matter how much I had promised myself that I would get to work on writing my next big speech today, my thoughts just keep getting in the way.

I remember his serene expression, the gaze that could burn a hole through one's soul just by merely glancing at the soul's beholder. Those completely red and blue orbs for eyes. The perfectly straight line of his mouth, neither smiling, nor frowning. His calm composure despite the impactful words that he had spoken…the image just wouldn't leave me.

When he had finished introducing himself, I couldn't help but want to know him more. I was simply drawn to this stranger in a way that I could not possibly ever explain. I had never seen eyes like his before. I had never seen anyone _look _at me the way he did before.

None of my fellow Followers ever even _glanced_ at me in the manner in which he did, nor did they pay such deep attention to me and show such thorough interest in me. They'd normally give me confused looks, not understanding what I'm talking about, or shy away from me, intimidated by my lack of a sign and the anonymity that I'm forced to conceal myself in.

The only reason they would ever stay to chat with me was usually to taunt me for my unheard of ideas and to ridicule my outward appearance. None of them ever dared to try to look within me and tell me how they truly felt in response to my views and speeches. The only person I can think of who ever paid significantly close attention to me is Disciple. She has an intense passion for writing. And apparently the dreams and visions that I tell her about serve as her biggest source of inspiration.

But him. It was _he _of all trolls who chose to devote such deep fascination in me. A yellow-blood of low class, wearing a generic slave ensemble with black boots meant for tough physical labor and a matching head band to collect perspiration from exertion.

I would never have expected someone in slavery service to use their scarce free time to stay for an entire speech of mine, and even better yet, to hang around in order to chat with me personally afterwards.

And, gosh, was I flattered when he actually accepted my offering to bring him along with me to the bar. It warmed my heart to know that someone actually cared enough to be willing to join me in my leisure time.

Why did he show such fascination in who I was? Had it been out of curiosity, because of my strange, discreet outward appearance? Why did he choose to spend his few moments of spare time with _me_, a nobody whose words are too big, especially when compared to my abnormally small horns? Why was he willing to so quickly open up to me, when I barely had anything safe to reveal to him about myself in return?

How could he simply look at a troll with no apparent sign, blood color, or even a lusus-picked name without immediately shying away and wanting to keep distance? Did he fail to realize the threat I posed to him? Was he unaware that suspicious looking trolls such as I were constantly hunted down by drones without even being given a chance to explain themselves? Did he not stop to think about how being seen with me in public and following me around could perhaps get him caught in the fire as well, and instantly get him killed, as drones normally cleared out all low blooded trolls that were associated with suspicious looking ones such as I?

No matter. He was willing to take the risk when he took my offer to go with me to the underground bar.

The instant he had accepted my offering, he had taken a dangerous step into deep waters through which no light could ever penetrate. That type of bravery alone was enough to make me want to keep him by my side beneath those dark waters for as long as I could possibly manage.

I had rushed with him through the dark alleys, taking all the safest shortcuts I knew of, practically dragging him behind me by the arm, keeping a firm hold on his wrist and pulling him hastily as we maneuvered swiftly through the routes that I had become so accustomed to and familiar with over the sweeps.

These were the most discreet, shrouded alleys through which no proper Highblood would ever dare to step foot in, unless the said Highblood were on a mission that involved "dirtying" itself with the presence of these Lowblood "infested" streets.

I prefer to think of these Lowblood inhabited neighborhoods as homey and welcoming, unlike the closed off and aloof homes of the Highbloods. Despite the drab of these old alleys, I still believe that their genuine warmth is preferable to the stinging coldness of the Highblood districts.

When we'd finally reached the bar, I entered through the door with a sigh of relief that no one had seemed to notice my suspicious lack of a sign as we'd rushed through the alleys and that we hadn't encountered any Highbloods along the way.

I gave my new friend a glance as we stood at the entrance. It was difficult to tell where he was looking at because his eyes were completely solid orbs of singular color throughout, one blue and one red, with no apparent iris or pupil, but he seemed to be taking in the sight of the bar before him because that was the direction which he was facing.

I took his hand in mine and smiled at him reassuringly as I said, "Alright, this is the place. Sorry about the quick rush to get here."

He did not turn his head to face me, but his cheeks did acquire a slightly golden tint as he softly replied, "It's fine."

At that moment, I had learned two things about him. The fact that he had not moved his head when replying to me meant that when I'd thought he was taking in the sight of the bar, he was actually glancing at me through the corner of his eye. He had been looking at me the entire time. That made me a bit uncomfortable.

The second thing I'd learned was that he was an obedient slave who knew when not to ask questions. I had offered him no explanation as to why I had rushed him through the streets with me so hastily, and yet despite that, he had simply accepted it without any questioning whatsoever. This gave me the feeling that he was a trustworthy friend who I could do things freely with and not worry about having him inquiring me about all my strange behaviors. It was a very comforting thought.

Overall, I had mixed feelings about him.

I gave the yellow-blooded hand that I was grasping a quick, light little rub with my thumb to comfort him before gently but eagerly pulling my new friend over to the empty booth in the back of the bar where it was normally quiet.

This was my favorite spot, and I normally sat here because it was out of sight from the view of most of the other seating places in the bar. Here, I could always feel safe about my presence in a public place among properly blooded trolls.

Also, this table was usually reserved for me by the bar manager herself, Disciple. I was so lucky to have such an accommodating…companion. Or whatever the fuck we were.

Just as we sat down, side by side, Disciple pranced out from the kitchen with that ever enthusiastic, meowbeast-toothed smile on her beaming face, her long, wild, unruly black locks of hair bouncing a bit as she skipped her way over to where we were seated.

She skidded to a stop and her eyes widened a bit as she took notice to the yellowblood sitting beside me.

"Oh, hey Signless! I see you've brought a ….friend with you?" she asked with a raised brow, her green eyes darting back and forth between his face and mine in confusion.

I nodded in confirmation as I felt him tense up slightly by my side. Perhaps her rowdiness was making him uncomfortable. Or maybe it was something else that was bothering him? I would have to ask him about this later.

"Yeah, don't worry, he's with me," I replied. She was the only one, other than Dolorosa, who knew of my blood color, so she was always worried when I was around other trolls.

I couldn't blame her for being so concerned about me like that, but still, sometimes she overdid it and became a bit overprotective, which would outwardly appear as a gesture of moirailship, when in truth we were something between the redrom and blackrom. Always switching back and forth between conflicted argumentation and deep care for one another. An undefined type of romance. I didn't even know if it was considered a romance at all.

She looked at me scoldingly for another brief moment before asking, "So, what'll it be? The usual?"

I gave her a nod and then looked at my yellow blooded friend, saying, "What would you like?"

His brows rose a bit, most likely in surprise at my offering. He then instantly shook his head, saying hastily, "Well, actually, I don't really drink. In fact, I'm not really even sure why I'd come to a bar, other than to spend time with you."

"But that's the whole point, don't you see?" I said as my hand tightened around his. "How do you expect to spend some good quality time with me without even drinking a tiny bit for enjoyment purposes?"

He averted his gaze from me, gently pulling his hand away from my grasp and placing it in his lap where his other hand was situated. He looked down at the hands in his lap and spoke softly, timidly, saying, "…I would, but…I can't afford to use my minimal payment for things like that. Slavery service salary," he cringed at how his lisp had practically butchered the enunciation of those three words, "is just enough to cover basic living expenses."

I chuckled and gave him a firm pat on the back, at which he flinched, startled, and I said, "Don't worry, we've got you covered. As long as you're with me, everything's on the house."

He raised a confused brow at that, at which my green blooded companion completed my explanation for me.

"Yeah, I'm the manager here, so if my Signless says that he and a friend want something, then it's no problem for me to get it for them for free. After all, this place is doing pretty well lately, since people have started following him here from the sermons. So it wouldn't be a loss if I slipped in a few free drinks for close friends here and there, you know."

The Yellowblood at my side relaxed a bit and nodded slightly, saying softly, "…Well, I guess if that's the case, then it's a really nice offer, but I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to order. In fact, I've never drunk before, so I don't even know where to begin." He looked away timidly, most likely ashamed of his lack in drinking experience.

I chuckled softly and removed my hand from his back in order to place it gently atop his hand, giving it a light stroke with my thumb as I spoke to reassure him. "Well, maybe I could just have her get you the same thing that I'm getting. How's that sound?"

His shoulders tensed slightly but then relaxed gradually, as if the longer he looked at me, the calmer he became. He eventually nodded his head, saying quietly, "…Okay."

I told Disciple, "So. My order. Make it two," and she nodded before departing to the drinks counter.

I then wrapped my arm over the goldblood's shoulders, letting it be draped loosely over them as I leant back in relaxation. He appeared much tenser than I, so I waited for Disciple to disappear behind the drinks counter where she was out of sight so that I could ask him softly, "…So tell me, Psi…what's gotten you so nervous, hmm? And is it okay if I call you that?"

He nodded his head slightly, saying softly, while still looking away with an expression of shyness, "…Yeah, you can call me that. And I'm not nervous-"

"Yes you are," I cut him off. He then sighed quietly under his breath, as if giving up. He probably already knew that he couldn't beat me when it came to getting him to be honest about his feelings. And if he didn't realize it at that time, then at least I'd made sure to make it known to him later on.

"…Well, you two just seemed really close, and, if it's not rude of me to say so, I just couldn't keep myself from contemplating about the, um…romantic status between you two," he said with a bit of nervous shiftiness, looking away as if ashamed in asking about such a personal topic after having only just met me.

But I didn't mind, of course. The only difficulty for me was to succeed in explaining my exact relationship with Disciple to others. And getting them to listen about it in the first place was also a constant difficulty, considering that the moment I'd mention having some sort of relationship with her, they'd back down and lose interest in me.

But this gentle yellowblood was different. He seemed genuinely interested in the topic of romance, especially for a troll of his blood color, since most trolls who were in slavery service scarcely had the time or the energy required in order to invest in a good romantic relationship with anyone.

Perhaps he too was interested in the subject of the definition of romance? If this were true, then it would mean that he and I shared a lot more in common than I thought previously, and this shared interest would only serve to cause the companionship between us to become even more tightly bound.

"Oh, that," I finally said. "Well, we're sort of a special case, you see. She and I have known each other since we were both grubs, so it's a bit awkward for us to be in the flushed quadrant. And we couldn't be proper moirails since we often find ourselves bickering and arguing over the tiniest of things. Our chemistry isn't one that a specific quadrant could define. It's as if we're romantically inclined for one another, yet we remain abstinent from each other because we're just too mentally close to each other to pail and such. "

I couldn't stop myself from grinning slightly as I realized that the light golden glow on his cheeks was a result of my mentioning of pailing. He cleared his throat and looked away a bit in timidity, which only made me burst out in an amused chuckle, patting him gently on the back. He shifted a bit nervously again as I patted him, and that made him seem even more endearing to me than he already was, somehow.

I didn't think twice before instantly leaning in and murmuring jokingly into his ear, "…Don't worry, my flushed quadrant is still open, if that's what you were wondering." His shoulders tensed in response to that, his cheeks acquiring an even deeper hue of gold, and I burst out laughing again as I tightened my arm slightly around him to pull him in a bit closer to me so that our sides were lightly pressed together.

His blush never faded throughout the rest of our stay at the bar. Not when I intently watched him as he took his first sip of an alcoholic beverage, and not when we had both finished our entire drinks. Not when we were both tipsy to the point of laughter over the stupidest of notions, and not when I jokingly pressed a kiss to his cheek after half-heartedly calling him names. And most definitely not when I was suddenly overcome by my repressed desires to kiss him more in depth, pausing my seemingly endless laughter to tuck my hand under his chin and tilt his face towards mine so that I could slowly lean in and allow our lips to meet as if they had always been destined to do so. No, not even then, when my eyes were closed, did his blush fade. I didn't have to see to know. I could feel the heat radiating from his face, the warmth from his soft lips flowing into mine and heating me as well, in more ways than one. My entire body had begun to tingle with an overbearingly splendid warmth, the origin of which was unknown to me, before I suddenly realized that this is what it felt like to truly be flushed for someone.

Yes, I barely knew him, and yes, I was drunk, and yes, I was young and emotionally flippant at the time, and yes, I knew he was a slave which meant that we'd almost never find the time to physically be together, and yes, I knew that Disciple would disapprove, and yes, I knew that my mere existence was already a threat to his own.

But I would come to love this troll. I would love him in a way that I'd never been able to understand before. A way that would remain inexplicable to me until the end of time. And I wouldn't regret a single moment of it.

As I sit at my desk now, reminiscing over the occurrences of last night, I realize that I'd forgotten most of them due to my inebriated state at the time. All I remember is that at some point, my new companion had told me that he must go before the Highbloods responsible over him at the slavery facility would send psionic-immunized drones to come after him.

I remember seeing the iron anklet he wore. The tracking device within it would electrocute him at an unbearably high voltage if he wasn't within the facility grounds at the designated hours. The very concept of it made me grit my teeth every time I thought about it. He'd said the anklet was not removable and that it was embedded in his skin since before his voice had even begun to change. The mere thought of it made me want to tear it right off of him, and knowing how impossible it was only made me hate it that much more.

Instead of writing my next sermon, I plot out an escape plan. I'm going to break him out of that hell hole. I send him a text with my intentions written on it. He doesn't object.


End file.
